Consumed
by Herald of Woe
Summary: Feanor and his descendants weren't forgiven by the Valar, but there is a chance they can be redeemed...mild AU. NO 10thWalker. NO Legomance. OC. Covers pre-WotR-4th age, with refs from 1st & 2nd age. Covers other nations during Wotr. CH3 when upload works
1. Chapter 1: Demise

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**Consumed**

_**Chapter One: Demise**_

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**A/N:** Most of this was in the summary... slight AU, NO 10th walker, no pairing [yet], OCs (one major, a bunch of minor), covers nations during WotR that the Fellowship aren't in or didn't go to [Mirkwood, Lorien, Lindon, others] This first chapter is split: the italics are all in 236 TA.

**Disclaimer**: I only own the bunnies and OCs. I am making no profit from this. All credit goes to Tolkien.

**Warnings: **really angsty later, violence, and you will be very confused in later chapters if you did not read the Silmarillion.

_*italics*_ = thought  
_italics_ = dream or flashback

more at the bottom. Enjoy the story, mellyn!

~_Herald of Woe~_

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_Deafening screams of sheer terror jolted a restless elleth from her nightmare. She sprung up wailing for her mother and father and pulled her blankets tightly around her as if they somehow protected her from the darkness. No one came._

_The girl didn't dare sleep again. Eventually, a pale dawn rose from the waves caressing the coast of Harlindon as the child's tears finally ran dry__,__ her screaming and sobbing reduced to whimpering and sniffling. She lay back against her downy pillows and stared at the ocean._

_Strangely, her father had not burst into her bedchamber like he had done countless times before when his toddler awoke shrieking._

_She waited until the room filled with light to investigate the lack of attention. She knew well that the darkness of the vast windowless hall would rekindle her morbid fears. The hall had lofty ceilings and countless doors. The rest of the estate was open and airy, with winding antique ornamentation –things that could easily look menacing in the night._

_Clutching a wooly blanket, she peeked out the door and upon seeing nothing frightful, tiptoed out. The soft padding noise echoed from the cold stone floor to the vaulted ceiling, and the girl jumped in fright many times upon seeing a statue or reflection on the smooth tiles. At last she turned a corner and came to a big door that was slightly ajar._

_Pushing it fully open with her little hand, she saw a man standing on the balcony across from the hall door. But he was not her father. The elf had hair of white-gold. He was dressed neatly, as if he had been ready for hours and did not rush out. _

_Her father had black hair -black as crow feathers. He also stood differently as if some unseen burden was pushing him down and he was resisting it. The elf at the balcony hung his head, but stood fully upright. His fists were clenched so that it appeared his knuckles would burst from his skin. It was her father's best friend, Celevon. Something was horribly wrong._

**.ox0X0xo.**

_Celevon gazed unseeingly at the rising sun. Joyous birdsong filled the cool morning air as a perfect autumn day began. He clutched the white railing of the balcony and willed himself to forget the events from mere hours ago. How ironic, a perfect day to celebrate the darkest evil. A small tug came at a corner of his cloak and he wrenched his eyes away from the sunrise and looked at his friend's only daughter. Celevon flinched -the sight of the girl plunged a blade into his heart. Did she have to look like him? She had the same midnight hair, the same huge sea-blue eyes - she was his exact appearance, but in the form of a tiny elleth._

_"Where is my daddy?" she whimpered. [1]_

_Celevon opened his mouth to answer but his voice disobeyed and stayed silent. How could he tell her? She was so young and innocent, free of the weight of reality._

_But he found he had no need to tell her. She read the look in his dark eyes and face. Her own youthful face paled as her infantile mind registered that some tragedy has occurred. She turned to look at the bed and saw a figure completely covered by the sheet. And then the toddler – who seemed distraught enough before -- was at Celevon's feet on her knees, gasping and shaking._

_It was strange how quickly she had absorbed the hideous truth. Celevon was still in shock, and did not believe it, even though he was the one who had come -sensing danger- and had seen the corpse hours ago._

_He patted the girl's head awkwardly._

_What was her name, again? he thought. Faerithil, I believe. Faerithil the orphan, now. She was probably the only elf without parents, and Celevon wondered when she would realize that. Her mother has been dead since the moment she was born. When would she ask how her father mysteriously died?_

**0X**

_It was her nightmare come true. Faerithil felt the feeble shield that took two decades of life to build shatter around her and she was falling, again. Like her dreams: running desperately, finding safety -a door perhaps- and bolting through with relief only to find that it deceived her. There was only utter darkness._

_She was aware that Celevon patted her and she gazed up to him. His eyes held no comfort but were hard as stone, with the smallest flicker of accusation and resentment. She ducked away from his outstretched hand and dashed out__of the room. The slamming of her door resonated in the lonely hallway and she sank to the floor, weeping freely._

**.ox0X0xo.**

_Celevon sighed -half in exasperation, half in pity- as the hysterical child bolted out the door. He desperately wished to do the same, to dash back home and hide in his own imaginary refuge like an elfling. He was far from being an elfling, but it was not his dignity that rooted him to the spot. _

_The promise Faerithil's parents had painstakingly extracted from him to "watch her and inform her when she came of age" kept him from fleeing. They had been desperate when drawing that promise from Celevon for he was not very fond of children, to say the least, nor very fond of the responsibility of having someone depend on him. _

_He eventually agreed, thinking to himself that he would be able to shirk his responsibility by only visiting once a week. _

Now_ he realized that that would not be possible for a time. He could not leave the girl in the house when death still darkened its corridors, and he could not leave her to fend for herself so young, and in such a state. As much as he detested the emotional child, pity triumphed. _

_She would live a life no child deserved- forlorn and wrought with agony. He thought the Valar should have mercy on her. She surely did not deserve such a harsh fate, no matter what her ancestors had done!_

_But if what her father said was true, the Valar had no kindness for the family in the past, and were not changing their views for a time._

_Celevon's heart told him that this day marked the beginning of Faerithil's demise._

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Faerithil gritted her teeth and hauled her aching body from the mud, spitting out a surprising amount in disgust. Thoroughly soaked and irritated, she forcefully blew the hair that was plastered to her face back into place. The disgruntled elleth climbed back up to her perch in the great oak from which she had fallen. Another fruitless hunt took her deep in the woods –almost to the end of the tree line in the mountains— and left her exhausted. She had hunted through the night and fatigue and lack of nourishment had claimed her where she took shelter from the sudden downpour in her tree. And now she remembered how she had fallen- a dream.

It was a recurring dream that often plagued her mind for that day was the point her life started spiraling down, never to be forgotten. She started violently and fell from the tree and into mucky dirt with a squelch. Nightmares always delved deep into dark memories for fuel, to mock her fear of her past and future. After all she had done to bury her life; it had been stolen from the remote corners of her mind. Her past, her task, everything loomed in shadow and she felt a deep sorrow rise in her heart at the hopelessness of it all.

But that should not matter. She did not dwell in the mountains far from civilization just to wallow in her misery. She stayed to forget it.

Not that she had come by choice, though…

Then thought consumed her and she remembered the things that led to her millennia-long "stay" in the Blue Mountains. They were the same things she had kept locked up in her heart like bloodthirsty animals, before they were set loose by dreams. A particularly despicable beast was, the day from her dream, which was also the first cause of her isolation. *_How long has it been?*_ she wondered. That day was in autumn of 236, in the Third Age. Faerithil knew not the year, but it was certainly more than one-and-a-half millennia prior to the present day.

The Accident had been just months after her two hundredth birthday. That was "the falling of small rocks to start an avalanche," as Gandalf would put it.

Her childhood had ended early, when she was 70 or so, but it had not been as unbearable as Celevon believed. Better than her adolescence and adulthood by a far cry.

She had been lonely but there were good memories, signs that said that the world was not entirely bad…

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**[1]** all the dialogue is in Sindarin, and I think it's silly to mix Sindarin and English on and off and put the translations at the bottom. You won't be finding any stray "Ada"s or "Mellon-nin"s. No Elvish until much later.

Thanks for reading!! Updates will arrive within a week or so. I will not force you to review (how would I manage that?) or tempt you with virtual/cyber cookies, but any comments, criticism, etc. are welcome. Hey, I'll even take flaming- as long as I get feedback.

The chapters WILL get better. Starting is the hardest part, and unfortunately, when the first impression is made...

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	2. Chapter 2: Reminiscence

**Consumed**

_**Chapter Two: Reminiscence**_

___**A/N**____: In case it was confusing in the first chapter, it switches between past and present and character. Italics is past, and any character switch is separated with ".oxOXOxo." Any confusion? Don't be afraid to PM me!! _

___**ALSO**____: I know I haven't mentioned Feanor yet and he was in the summary. Sorry, but that's in the third/fourth chapter! Don't worry; I'll make it interesting 'till then, promise!! (I am dropping more hints…)_

___Faerithil is about seven years old in human years here and in chapter one._

___**[Disclaimer in first chapter]**_

AH!!! I forgot to thank my betas in the first chapter!!! D8  
Hannon le, mellyn! Betas: Amarynthis Elenaiel and Lysana, and [unofficially] my sister.

___~the Herald of Woe~_

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'_**She had been lonely but there were good memories, signs that said that the world was not entirely bad…'**_

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_Celevon woke to find himself in the first light of a lovely Yestarë. [1] Yawning, he stretched lavishly and grinned to himself. A perfect mood for a perfect day!_

_A small plop sounded as something soft hit the floor. He rubbed his groggy eyes to clear them and picked up what looked like a small animal. _

_It was a bear, made of brown cloth stuffed with scrap fabric and it had buttons loosely sewn on for eyes. The toy obviously belonged to Faerithil, who had now lived with Celevon for nearly four seasons. [2]_

_He smiled and set the fluffy bear down on the bed. She must have left it in the room yesterday, though it was unlike her to forget any of her treasured playthings. _Then_ he looked up to see a stuffed cat in the sea of covers. Confused, Celevon shook out the blankets and about ten more toys fell out. *Ai, what has the girl done?* he wondered. Maybe this was her way of celebrating the new year. *Strange child…*_

_He moved to run a hand through his silvery hair, but found that it was hopelessly tangled all the way up to the scalp. He frowned and left his comfortable bed in search of a mirror in the clutter of his chamber._

_Brushing a mountain of scrolls off his desk, he finally found a cracked mirror and deemed it adequate for use. Never had he been wasteful; he would refuse to dispose of something unless it was completely unusable. _

_Peering into the round glass, he howled in dismay and the mirror plummeted to its death._

_He streaked to the washroom and studied his reflection in that mirror. With shaky hands, he lifted a tightly braided lock of hair as if to make sure it was real. His entire head was covered with thin silver plaits. Not only that, but they were tied with extremely feminine ribbons. His head had been transformed into a riotous flower garden. Fragrant blooms of every color were tied into his exploited hair._

_Celevon was absolutely speechless, and the face in the mirror phased from horror, to rage, to disgust, and back to horror for an eternity --all of five minutes. _

_Celevon thundered back to his chamber in a desperate search for a comb, and stopped dead at yet another ghastly sight that welcomed him._

"_AAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGH!" he exploded and nearly ripped his hair from its roots._

_His room was… rainbow. Flowers identical to the ones that adorned his head were scattered about and ribbons hung from the ceiling. An army of stuffed animals beamed at him from various locations. Plants –roots, leaves, and all- decked the once-clean floor and small, muddy footprints made trails around the room._

_At that moment, Faerithil leapt from behind a couch and yelled exuberantly, "SURPRISE!" _

_She was apparently bursting with pride for the chaotic display she had created and danced around the room in circles, stirring up a whirlwind of petals and leaves. No reaction came from her caregiver for a time, and she stopped._

"_Do you not like it?" she murmured in a small voice. Sadness returned to her eyes and her cheery mood dissolved._

"_I __**love**__ it, child_," Celevon lied tightly, twitching. "_I was… merely without words for such a display!"_

_She laughed jovially and leaped into Celevon's arms. He grimaced at the thought of the inevitable cleanup, but he knew that the somber girl's happiness was well worth it._

_____________.ox0X___

In the present, Faerithil smiled sadly to herself. After that little incident, they had gone to the festival in Harlond. She had tried to play with the other children…

___________X0xo.___

"_My name is Elivren! What is your name, friend?" an elleth near Faerithil's age asked. Elflings were not common, and Faerithil thought she must be the only one her age present._

"_Faerithil," she answered politely._

_They continued to have a long conversation about various things- flowers, toys, their names, trees, friends, family…_

"_What are YOUR parents like?" Elivren inquired._

_Faerithil flinched. It _was_ an innocent question._

_Luckily, a butterfly fluttered past before she could answer and the two children raced after it to see who could catch the insect. The girls squealed with glee as they raced through the streets of Harlond after the unfortunate bug._

"_I have it! I have it!" Elivren squealed triumphantly, not watching where she was going._

_Faerithil watched in amusement as a woman was nearly bowled over by the excited child._

"_Elivren!" she scolded, "What are you doing this far from the festivities!"_

"_But mother—"_

"_Who is that you are with?" she hissed suddenly._

"_My friend! Faerithil!" _Elviren answered exultantly.

_The mother threw a wide eyed glance at the confused Faerithil and then whispered, "The smith's daughter? Stay away from her, do you hear me?"_

"_WHY?" her daughter protested._ Faerithil was as perplexed by the woman's reaction as her daughter.

"_She is no good! There is bad blood in her family and I do not want to see you near her *_ever*_ again!"_

_As mother and daughter passed, Faerithil heard the lady mutter under her breath the words "kinslayer," "the Dispossessed" and something about being the 'bane of the Valar'._

_Faerithil found her way back to Celevon, who was avoiding people because of his embarrassing frazzled hair, and told him what happened. He never took her to the Yestarë Festival in Harlond again._

**.xoX0Xox.**

Faerithil remembered being upset and confused. She had asked many times why children avoided her, and what a kinslayer was. Celevon had no answer every time, though she could see that he knew.

_Now_ of course she knew everything, but wished she could forget it, as if that somehow could right the wrongs of her ancestors and fix her life. As if it would bring her family back from the dead.

Thoughts like these, of the things she lost and can never have, brought the weight of the world crashing down on her shoulders. Celevon had waited far too long to tell her, and that was only after The Accident.

The Accident…

She should have died.

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[1] Yestarë is the Elvish new year. It is March 28 of our calendar.

[2]The Elvish calendar has six seasons with different amounts of days in each, not four consisting of three months.

A short chapter, a good 700 words less than the last. -_-u Hope it was good…

REVIEW[S]: Thank you!! And thank you to those who read this! 3, the Herald of Woe

Lysana – Your questions will be answered by chapter 4. Chapter 3 is being drafted, almost done!


	3. Chapter 3: The Accident

**Consumed**

_Chapter Three: The Accident_

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**A/N: **Sorry this came later than I had hoped. Might be confusing, look for little hints. Disclaimer and other stuff in Ch1

_~Herald of Woe~ _

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_Lightning split the sky over a deserted beach. _

_The elf whirled barefoot through the sand obliviously, even as the clouds above released their watery wrath from the heavens._

_The narrow strip of shoreline was Faerithil's sanctuary and she visited it habitually after her father's death, to the point that it became her second home. It was a place to sit and think, or rest, sing or dance, walk and stray into a different world. It was the only place where she could smile and laugh and escape her life. In other places, she returned to her introverted, solemn, sorrowful self—the forlorn young maiden who did not smile but was too proud to cry._

_Others did not come there, for the sea-longing would come to haunt them— but not Faerithil, the Valar did not want her._

_It was on that fateful day that Faerithil had been dancing rapturously with the tides, as she had done for nearly two centuries._

_Her bare feet's small imprints on the sand were erased by the tide and falling rain and she paid no attention to the intricate movement of her dance._

_Colors spun wildly –the grey sky, her black hair, indigo silk dress—and Faerithil felt alive, so alive, the pounding of her heart, music flowing through her very bones and blood, the cool rain washing away worry as it caressed her skin. _

_Thunder shook the earth unexpectedly and Faerithil nearly tripped over her feet as they ceased their rhythm._

_It took a very soaked Faerithil a long moment to gather her bearings, and at last, she realized where she was, and what was going on and she took off running._

_In the streets of the city of Harlond she noticed the ever-present citizens stare at her with contempt. She slowed to a brisk walk and tried not to let their resentment perturb her. In her heart she despaired; she was the outcast, the freak, and doomed to be alone forever. Maybe she was a little different. Why should that matter? She did not understand what had earned her such malice… _

_Finally she left the city and flew across the grass like a nimble doe, not breaking stride until she stood in the halls of her home._

_A small sea was already pooling on the aged floor. She had left the windows open!_

**.ox0X0xo.**

Celevon thought that his head would implode if he had to wait any longer. Everything made him ill at ease- the weather, the fact that he was in his dead friend's house, the situation- but the waiting! The waiting was agonizing.

The hand enclosed in his was cold and limp. He watched restlessly for the faint rise and fall of a breathing chest and listened for the stuttering heartbeat anxiously.

**0X**

_Faerithil waded through the water and shut the windows, but left the door open to drain the water. Outside, lightning could be seen striking the Blue Mountains in the distance – the storm was dangerous and coming her way._

_Faerithil shivered –she was fully soaked—and left the waterlogged hall for a seldom-visited room that would be dry so she could at least find fresh clothes. Though her father's house was not much bigger than Celevon's, it certainly had more space without clutter and with its corridors and forgotten rooms. It was still very much the potentially frightening house of her childhood. _

_The walls shuddered as another boom of thunder rocked the house. Faerithil silently prayed that nothing bad would come of the storm. The hall she entered was long and two inches underwater, but the level was rising thanks to the open design of the house._

_The storm raged on and suddenly grew stronger. Faerithil yelped in surprise as lightning struck down a tree only a few yards from the open corridor. The rain increased its intensity. Such a storm had not visited Harlond in her memory, and she broke into a run. The hall was only a floor with a roof added on to the house as a shortcut to the other side. There were no walls and the sides were completely open, revealing the steep fall that it was constructed over._

_The angry jutting rocks of the cliff were a ways below, the land a huge sloping rock overlooking the sea. The land smoothed into beach behind and climbed up to create a vertical peak. The sea lapped at the cliff's foot normally, but now it was slamming into it. _

_Her heart's pounding rivaled the storm's roar as she raced across the slippery open corridor, but she finally saw the stairs that led to shelter and fresh clothes. She rushed ahead with new energy; there were only four yards to go..._

**.ox0X0xo.**

"Faerithil." Celevon leaned carefully towards the unconscious girl.

"Faerithil, hear my words. I know you can."

She did not stir, but just lay in her sea of white coverlets like a statue of a dead person. Except that dead people look peaceful while they sleep, they do not look troubled or pained.

"I know you will wake up. When that time comes, there are things I must tell you. Things your mother and father wanted you to know. They will explain _everything_."

He paused, took her tiny hand in his again, and stroked it. The delicate hand was clammy and cold, though her skin was still the soft and silken skin of a young elf. He wondered how she would bear the weight of his ill tidings. She would have her innocence ripped away in one conversation.

Not only that, but she had the burden of her accident. A twenty-foot drop off a cliff to the rocks and into the ocean that slammed against them was not something one would survive, let alone remain unscathed from. Celevon feared the ugly gash on her jaw would become permanent. Such a scar might even be carried through death. Or worse than that, a mortal fear of heights and water. Or damage from cracking her head on the rocks.

A healer walked in, set a tray on the table, and left with a small bow of respect. Celevon had paid a healer to come to Faerithil's house. The silver-haired elf heeded him not, but he was silent for the time he was in the room.

Celevon gripped her hand. It was beginning to look and feel like her parents' hands—cold as stone, deathly pale. She would suffer their fate... or worse.

"I am so sorry," he breathed.

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Sorry for the short chapter. It was better to leave some things to your imaginations…

Thank you to Sarah, Jedi Sapphire, and Lysana for reviewing!

Chapter 4 should come sooner than this one did. This was unexpectedly hard to write. I hope it's worth the effort…

Can you review to tell me how it was? Please?


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